When Nothing Else Works
by Icabu
Summary: When nothing else works, Lt. Harrelson calls on TJ McCabe ... ***** I'm grateful for the beta read, any remaining issues are mine. *****
1. Chapter 1

Sgt. Deacon 'Deke' Kay leaned on the communication desk in the back of the War Wagon as Lt. Harrelson received updates from the patrol sergeant on-scene at the convenience store holdup that went sour and became a hostage situation. The Olympic SWAT team members swayed as they prepared for action. Jim Street double-checked the magazine in his Colt 1911, slipping the full mag into the grip butt and holstering the gun in his shoulder harness. Dominic Luca adjusted his bullet-proof vest, fastening the front one-handed with his M16 in the other. TJ McCabe checked the scope on his Model 70 long gun, checking that the mag well was full with .308 cartridges.

Harrelson addressed the team. "Report is two perps in the store. Ski masks so no identification on them. Witnesses say the gunmen are really twitchy – likely on something."

"That certainly doesn't help," Dom Luca said.

"No it doesn't," agreed Harrelson. "We'll have to be on our toes."

"How many hostages?" asked Jim Street.

"Three didn't make it out before the gunmen got the doors locked. A pregnant woman, an older couple," Harrelson said.

"Would've been nice if someone could've helped them get out of there," TJ commented.

"I'm sure it was hectic for a bit, but, yeah, I concur." Harrelson looked at each man in turn. "This could get ugly with those hostages."

Everyone nodded agreement.

Sam brought the SWAT van to a screeching halt at a location strategic to the situation. The men exited, crouching behind patrol cars a discreet distance from the store front. Harrelson located the patrol sergeant.

"Hondo," the sergeant greeted Harrelson, "it's pretty ugly in there."

"What do we have?" Harrelson surveyed the store, the surrounding buildings.

"Two jacked crackpots with pistols, according to the escaped witnesses," the sergeant reported. "A very pregnant woman and a couple in their eighties were pushed down in the mad rush to flee and are now hostages."

Harrelson didn't miss the disdain in the sergeant's voice on the hostage situation. "We'll get them out of there."

Looking around, Harrelson called, "TJ, up on that sign catwalk. Stay alert."

TJ nodded and headed for the billboard advertising a brand of cigarettes at the edge of the parking lot.

"Deke, cover the back. Street, Luca, get on the roof and look for a way inside."

The men took off at Harrelson's command.

Dom received a boost up to a sub-roof, catching the rifles tossed up to him. Deke knelt and Jim stepped up on his horizontal thigh and up again on his clasped hands to reach the sub-roof. Deke then settled in behind trash containers to cover the back door. He radioed to Harrelson that he was in position.

Jim and Dom found a roof hatch just to the right of the rear door, likely leading into a storage or mechanical room. Quietly, they lifted the hatch door and peered below into a storage room. Jim laid his rifle across the opening and squeezed around it, holding fast, dangling above the floor. Letting go, he dropped into a crouch on the floor. Dom passed down both their rifles and, grasping the sides of the opening, dropped quietly to the floor.

Pressing his ear to the door leading from the storage room into the store, Jim heard muffled voices, but couldn't make out what was being said. He figured that Harrelson had his bullhorn out and was trying to diffuse the situation, but it didn't seem like the gunmen were taking it to heart.

Dom radioed them in position. They waited.

Just a couple of minutes later a shot rang out from inside the store. Jim heard screaming. Immediately, the radio buzzed.

"TJ, green light. Hostage shot. Green light." Harrelson's voice was urgent but clear.

Jim and Dom prepared to enter the store, waiting for Harrelson's go. Jim's hand clamped on the door knob – ready at any instant. They heard a distant shot, more screaming. That should have been TJ.

"Go!" Harrelson's voice erupted over the radio. "One gunman down."

Jim pulled the door open and Dom ran, crouching behind the aisle displays, to the left. Jim ran to the right, shouldering his rifle onto his back by its sling and unholstering his pistol. In such close quarters the rifle was overkill.

Dom closed in on the cash register at the front of the store where the gunmen and hostages were. "Police," he called out. "Drop your weapon."

As expected, the gunman turned toward Dom. Also as expected, Jim shot the gunman, hitting his shoulder. The gun dropped harmlessly to the ground and the gunman went to his knees, holding his arm. Dom ran in and kicked the gun away and got the gunman belly-down on the floor.

Jim checked the carotid artery at the neck on the other gunman, shaking his head. Deke had rushed in and had the elderly couple on their feet, herding them toward the door and outside. Jim looked into the manager's office and found the pregnant woman trying to hide behind a filing cabinet, her distended abdomen protruded beyond the cabinet, giving her away. He holstered his pistol and walked over to her.

"Ma'am," he said quietly, calmly, "it's over." He took her trembling hand and then noticed her arm bleeding. Immediately, he swept her into his arms and rushed outside with her. She clung to him, crying softly. An ambulance was there and he sat her on the waiting gurney.

"You're in good hands now," he told her, pulling away.

TJ joined Jim as the woman was loaded into the ambulance and it roared away.

"They shot a pregnant woman," Jim murmured, shaking his head. He walked back to the store with TJ.

Medics were stabilizing the gunman that Jim had shot; two patrol cops standing close by them.

Deke knelt beside the dead gunman and pulled off his ski mask. "Damn," he choked out, looking into the youthful face.

"It's a kid," TJ said. He paled. "I killed a kid?" Backing up, a disgusted frown tightened on his face. Wide eyed, he glared at Deke. "I killed a kid."

The medics had the injured gunman on a gurney. He saw his cohort lying on the floor. "Willy?" he called. "That's my kid brother. Willy!" The cops pushed the gurney out the door, shielding the gunman from the sight inside the store.

Harrelson took TJ by the arm, pulling him out of the store. "That kid," he growled, "shot a pregnant woman. He was holding up this store."

"But he's just a kid," TJ said, despair etching his face.

"It was a clean shoot, TJ. We aren't responsible for how old these perps are." He squeezed TJ's arm, shook it lightly. "It was a clean."

TJ turned toward the store, closing his eyes. "You don't shoot kids." He faced Harrelson again. "You don't shoot kids." He took a gulping breath. "He should be in school. Playing basketball, going to dances."

"But he wasn't," Harrelson said. "He and his brother decided to skip and hold up a store. Shoot a pregnant lady."

"And I killed him." Jerking away from Harrelson's grip, TJ sank to his haunches, leaning his back against the store wall. Steadying himself with both hands on his rifle, he lowered his face against his arms.

Harrelson wasn't certain of TJ's emotional state, but he stepped back and turned away to give him a private moment. Deke came over and stood next to Harrelson. Jim took post on the other side of Harrelson. Dom stood next to Deke. They provided a semi-circle shield for TJ from the outside world.


	2. Chapter 2

The Control Center was disconcertingly quiet as Harrelson descended the steps. He heard papers shuffling, feet scuffing. No friendly, light-hearted banter like usual. He had to admit this morning wasn't exactly normal. Everyone still stung from the convenience store holdup the day before – especially TJ. Fate had put a strung out boy with a twitchy trigger finger in TJ's scope.

"TJ," Harrelson called, "we have a meeting with the Chief."

TJ rose slowly at his desk. "Chief Roman?"

"Yes," Harrelson said. "It won't take long."

Jim and Dom rose also.

TJ walked silently toward Harrelson, flanked by Jim and Dom.

Deke intercepted the flankers. "This isn't the inquisition, guys. Deke sighed at the needle-sharp glares.

Harrelson held up a hand. "TJ, gentlemen," he began, "Chief appreciates the sensitivity in this situation and just wants to speak to TJ personally. No protection is necessary." Internally, it warmed Harrelson's heart that TJ's teammates so readily came to his aid, needed or not.

After Harrelson and TJ disappeared up the stairs, Deke turned to Jim and Dom. "He's not facing a firing squad, guys, come on."

With sighs and muttering, Jim and Dom returned to their desks.

"Some of the media is running this story," Deke said. "Chief wants us to remind everyone not to talk to the media in any capacity. Just ignore them."

"Oh, great," Dom declared.

"Had to happen," Jim added.

"Channel Three is on our side," Deke continued. "They've interviewed the pregnant lady that was shot by the boy. Her story is quite horrifying."

"But …" Dom countered.

"One of the rogue stations," Deke said, "Thirty-nine, I think, covered the boys' mother wailing – which she's entitled to do. But the coverage indicated complete innocence and had no mention of the boys holding up the store or shooting anyone."

"Incredible." Dom gazed toward the ceiling and sighed heavily.

"There might be some picketing outside of the precinct building." Deke raised and lowered his hands in a defeated gesture. "Just be aware."

Jim stared at a spot at the front of the room. His tapping pencil the only indication of his carefully controlled emotions. Dom shuffled papers aimlessly about his desk, not looking up at all. Resigned, Deke returned to his desk.

###

Chief Roman stood behind his desk and extended his arm out to shake TJ's hand. TJ did, as briefly as possible. He sat in the chair the chief indicated in front of the desk. At the edge of his vision, TJ saw Harrelson standing in front of the closed door.

The chief gave TJ the nearly identical spiel that Deke had given Jim and Dom downstairs. The muscles along TJ's jaw twitched and tightened at the mention of media and pickets.

"The department has no statement for the media on this matter." The chief looked directly at TJ. "It is an open and shut case, nothing to debate. As soon as I heard Olympic was involved, I had no doubts." He tapped a folder on his desk. "I've reviewed everyone's statements from the scene and I know it was a clean shoot." He stood, walked around to the front of his desk and hitched a hip on the desk, keeping his gaze steadily on TJ. "I know it's disturbing. We're cops, but we're human. I want you to see the department shrink." He held up a hand, seeing TJ flick a worried glance toward Harrelson. "Excuse me, my beat cop mentality is showing. The department psychologist. She's good. Let her help." His gaze shifted to Harrelson.

"Three this afternoon, Chief," Harrelson said.

"Good. The sooner the better." Chief Roman returned to his seat behind the desk. "That's my speech, Officer McCabe. Do you have any questions? Anything …"

TJ had endured the ordeal silent and stiff. "How old was he?" His blank expression didn't change.

Chief Roman sighed audibly, opened the folder on his desk and studied it for a moment. "Sixteen."

Other than a tic under his left eye, TJ's expression remained stoic. He stood, shouldered past Harrelson, and exited the chief's office.

Harrelson descended the stairs slowly, a couple minutes after TJ left the chief's office, stopping on the third-to-bottom step when noticing that TJ wasn't at his desk. The room was whisper quiet again, unnervingly so. He could hear Street's pen scratching across the form on his desk. He surveyed the Control Center, finding no sign of TJ McCabe.

Turning and ascending, Harrelson crossed the station lobby, exiting through the glass double-door entranceway. His shoulder muscles relaxed when seeing TJ sitting on the curb.

"McCabe."

TJ got to his feet and turned to face his commander. "Lieutenant."

"Walk with me." Harrelson turned and strode down the sidewalk.

TJ caught up and walked silently beside Harrelson. When reaching the tiny Tanner Park, essentially three picnic tables, Harrelson stepped up onto a bench and sat on the table top. His elbows rested on his knees. TJ followed suit.

"What about this has you so twisted up?" asked Harrelson.

TJ stared out at the passing traffic. He sighed. "After Nam, the war, I promised myself I'd never shoot another kid." TJ's fist pounded his thigh, punctuating his last words.

Harrelson nodded, hung his head a moment. He'd fought this demon. "It's not the same, TJ. That boy was in that store shooting people because he wanted to. He chose to.

"How he was raised, how he got to that point, that's his family's responsibility. When he walked into that store with a gun, then he became our responsibility."

"My responsibility. I have to live with that," TJ said.

"Mine, too," Harrelson said. "I put you up there. I gave the command. I picked you for my team. Chief Roman selected me to create the team. Chief of Police Davis approved the SWAT program."

TJ raised his hand. "I know what you're doing."

"You will have to live with taking that shot," Harrelson said. "But you can't take responsibility for _having_ to take the shot."

TJ shook his head. "It's hard."

"It's hard giving you the green light." Harrelson shrugged. "Nothing else worked and he shot a hostage." He stepped down. "See the shrink – as long as you need."

TJ sighed, nodded.

They walked back to Division.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim Street smiled broadly when TJ thumped down the stairs. Two shifts with a backup long-gunner out of Sunset was more than enough for Jim. TJ looked relaxed and calm.

Not surprisingly, TJ was called into Harrelson's office as soon as he'd gotten dressed. Jim had poured him a cup of coffee, handing it to TJ as he passed on his way to face Harrelson.

Dom thundered down the stairs, running late. Jim poured a cup of coffee and set it on Dom's desk while Dom changed into his uniform.

"Why are you so late?" Jim asked.

"Traffic jam coming in," Luca said, half out of breath.

"You're six blocks away," Jim said, confused.

"Wasn't at home. Out by Ridgeway." Luca hopped on one foot getting his left shoe on.

"Ridgeway? What were you doing way out there?"

Dom just smiled at Jim.

"Oh, that."

"Hey, TJ's back." Dom sipped his coffee, glancing into Harrelson's office.

"If he passes the Hondo Test," Jim stated. He'd had to face that particular test a few times.

"How'd he seem?" Dom refilled his coffee cup.

"Relaxed."

Jim reached for the ringing phone, but Harrelson had picked it up first.

Several seconds later, Harrelson and TJ burst out of the office. "We've got a domestic. Man with a rifle, the wife's inside."

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Dom muttered.

###

"TJ," Harrelson called. "That neighbor's roof."

TJ nodded and ran.

"Deke, perimeter."

Deke crouched and ran, circling the home.

Dom handed Harrelson the bullhorn, held the tear gas launcher.

"You, in the house," Harrelson said through the bullhorn. "This is the police. You need to let your wife come out and then you, with your hands on your head. No one needs to get hurt here."

The man yelled out through a broken pane in a front window. "You guys don't know what you're talking about. This is police brutality." He poked his rifle out the broken window and fired two shots.

"You're the only one shooting, Mister," Harrelson said. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this guy. "Your only chance is to put that gun down and come out."

"You guys don't know nothing. I'll shoot every one of you." Again, two shots fired, seemingly aimlessly, toward the line of police cruisers.

Deke hustled next to Harrelson. "The bedroom window is unlocked. His wife is on the bed, tied and gagged. If you keep him occupied up here, we can get her out and then take care of him."

"Good. Take Street and Luca. They go in and hand her out to you, then go after the shooter." Harrelson motioned his men to go.

"TJ," Harrelson said into his radio mike, "Street and Luca will be entering the house at the back right bedroom. Hostage rescue then neutralize the shooter."

"10-4. Standing by," TJ answered.

Harrelson picked up the bullhorn again.

Jim cut the cord tying the woman to the bed. Her wide eyes filled with tears – of joy at being rescued, he hoped. To be safe, he did not remove the duct tape across her mouth. It felt cruel, but it wasn't unusual for a hostage to yell or scream, either in relief or to sympathetically warn their captor. He held her arms so that she couldn't remove the tape just yet and Dom lifted her feet out the window.

As soon as Deke had the hostage, he ran with her out of sight, to safety. Jim and Dom flanked the bedroom door. Dom cracked it open. They'd heard the man yelling back to Harrelson, curses coloring his remarks as his temper boiled. Dom scanned the empty hallway, nodded to Jim, and they crept out of the bedroom.

They kept to the inside wall of the hallway. Across from them hung photos of an ordinary looking family, making Jim wonder what had gone so horribly wrong.

Dropping to his belly, Dom crawled across an open area that led into the living room – where the gunman stood by a front window. The only thing between the shooter and Dom was a couch. Jim covered Dom from the hallway opening.

A deep growl froze both Jim and Dom. In seconds, a large dog had Dom's arm in his mouth. Dom wrestled the animal for his life. Jim lunged forward to aid his struggling teammate and get out of the line of fire. He did not see that the gunman had already turned.

###

Dom rolled onto his back just in time to raise his arm to protect his face and neck from the snarling animal. The training flashed into his thoughts – mostly that dog encounters tended to end poorly for the attack-ee. He shoved his forearm far back into the dog's mouth, forcing the jaws wide and countering some of their power. He maneuvered and grabbed the bottom jaw with his free hand, thrusting his thumb hard into the soft floor of the dog's mouth. His skin tearing as the dog tried to shake free and continue its attack felt remote to Dom as adrenaline roared through his veins.

Hearing a shot, Dom figured Jim had taken out the gunman. When Jim fell back into the hallway with blood flowing from his head, a cold chill blanketed Dom. Keeping low, he pushed the angry dog back down the hallway, pushing with his arm trapped in the dog's mouth. Paying little attention to the crashing noises behind him, Dom leaned against the wall for support, believing his teammates would take care of the gunman, praying for Jim. He steered them into the bedroom the woman was rescued from. He heard a second shot – the familiar crack of the M16.

With his foot against the dog's chest, Dom pushed the dog into the master bathroom, jerking his arm free from its mouth, and quickly pushed the door closed as the dog's paws slid on the slippery tile.

Exhausted, he pulled the cover sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his arm.

###

Watching from the patio glass doors, Deke heard the dog bark and knew the men inside were in serious trouble. He grabbed a concrete planter and slammed it into the glass door. The glass bulged and popped out of its molding just after the gunman inside fired a shot. Deke kneeled and readied to shoot. He'd heard Harrelson give TJ the green light over the radio, but no shot came. With the shooter's back to him, Deke took aim and shot as the man brought the gun back to his shoulder for another shot at the men inside his house.

When the gunman crumpled to the floor, Deke rushed in, keeping his gun ready for the dog. He kicked the rifle away from the shooter and cuffed him, not entirely sure he was still alive. He stood and looked over the couch. Jim was down in the hallway and a lot of blood was smeared down the wall. He didn't see Dom.

Deke grabbed his mike. "Men down. Need ambulance. Shooter neutralized."

Cops burst through the front door and poured into the house. Deke ran to Jim. It appeared he took a glancing shot above his left eye, not unlike Harrelson had a short time ago. Although unconscious, Jim didn't appear to be gravely injured. Deke rose and followed the blood smears down the hallway. They stopped at a bedroom doorway. Deke entered, finding Dom sitting on the bed with a blood stained sheet wrapped around his left arm.

"Where's the dog?" Deke asked.

In a shaky voice, Dom answered, "In the bathroom." He used his chin to indicate the door beyond the end of the bed.

Deke helped Dom walk down the hall. Jim was on his feet now holding a towel to his head as Harrelson talked to him.

"Walking wounded," Deke said to Harrelson. "Not too bad."

"He's staying overnight and having all the recommended tests." Harrelson tilted his head in Jim's direction. "I know all about these graze head wounds."

"I'm all right, Lieutenant," Jim insisted. "I was diving for cover and got nicked." He swayed slightly when Harrelson let go of him. "That's all."

"And I insist otherwise." Harrelson looked over at Luca. "How's the arm."

"Still attached," Dom said. "Just a few extra holes." He looked at Jim. "How's his head?"

"Hard as ever," Jim answered for himself.

"Ambulance is here." TJ entered the house. "Holy shit," he exclaimed, looking at his bleeding teammates.

Harrelson steered Street out the door, meeting the ambulance attendants running toward the house. Deke had Luca following closely behind. TJ stared from the doorway.

Deke reentered the house, collecting Jim's and Dom's rifles. Harrelson met him as he exited the bedroom. The dog remained in the bathroom, snarling and barking angrily.

Harrelson held out the cuffs.

Deke took them. "Didn't make it, huh?"

Harrelson shook his head.

"I don't like shooting in the back." Deke bowed his head. "It just doesn't feel right."

"Sometimes you're not given a choice." Harrelson took one of the extra rifles. Turning, they saw TJ staring at them.

"Everyone will be okay," Harrelson said to TJ. "Let's head to the hospital to see how they're doing."

"I didn't have a shot," TJ said. "I couldn't tell where they were. I couldn't shoot not knowing."

"Okay," Harrelson said, looking closely at TJ. "I understand that."

"I couldn't just shoot," TJ added. "I didn't have a shot."

Deke put a hand on TJ's shoulder, turning him toward the door. "We took care of it, TJ. It's okay."

"They got shot." TJ's shoulders slumped as they walked to the van.

"Jim was grazed. Dom was attacked by a dog." Harrelson stepped into the back of the van. "They're both going to be fine."

"A dog?" TJ asked, stepping into the van last and closing the door.

"Yeah," Deke said, "toothy one too, going by Dom's arm."

Harrelson sat at the comm bench, rubbed his hand over his eyes. Hell of a way to start the day.

"Luckily for Jim, the guy only had a .22 rifle," Deke added.

"Some luck," TJ mumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

Harrelson was glad Doc Morgan decided to keep both Luca and Street overnight for observation. Street had quite a few tests done and, so far, everything looked good. It took twenty-two stitches to close the punctures and tears in Luca's arm, five more than Jim had in his head. Doc had Luca on a strong antibiotic as a precaution. A slight grin quirked as he remembered Luca's immense relief when the doctor canceled the rabies shots once they discovered the dog had all its vaccinations.

Weary from all the reports and the grilling from Chief Roman, Harrelson returned to the hospital before heading home.

Surprised, he found Susan, TJ's fiancée, sitting by Street's bed. Street appeared to be sleeping comfortably with the lights dim and no one else in the room.

"It's pretty crowded in Dom's room." Susan shrugged and looked over at Jim. "He didn't have anyone with Sheri still back east, flying."

"Ah – that the girl he had at the studio bombing incident?" Harrelson asked.

"Yeah." Susan grinned. "I think they're getting serious."

Harrelson shook his head. Personnel's dating habits were a bit out of his purview.

"Dom's family come in?" he asked, changing the subject.

Susan nodded. "TJ's over there now."

"How's TJ doing?" Harrelson relaxed against the wall beside the door.

Susan shrugged. "He's quiet." She looked over at Jim as he mumbled and shifted. "He's taking their injuries hard."

Nodding, Harrelson said, "Natural, I suppose. Don't like it too much myself."

"Me either," Susan said.

Jim sat up in the bed suddenly, his breath heaving and his hands reaching out, clasping the bed rails tightly.

"Jim?" Susan jumped up. She touched his arm.

Jim whirled to face her, eyes wide. He studied her briefly, frowning in confusion. The eye below his stitches was dark and swelling closed. He snapped his head around to face Harrelson, who now stood at the foot of his bed.

"Where's TJ?" Jim's voice croaked. "What happened to TJ? He didn't shoot." Jim looked frantically between Susan and Harrelson.

"Tell me!" Jim shouted. "Tell me!"

"Tell you what?" Harrelson asked calmly.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Jim rattled the rails forcefully. "He didn't shoot. You gotta tell me."

Jim turned sad eyes to Susan. "I'm so sorry."

"No, Jim." Susan reached out again, but Jim pushed away.

"Nooo!" He screamed and tried to climb out of the bed.

Harrelson grabbed Jim's wrists and pushed him back into the bed. "TJ's fine, Street. He's fine, okay. He's talking to Luca right now.

"Go get a nurse," Harrelson ordered Susan.

With her hand to her mouth, Susan backed away from the bed and turned, running to the door. TJ was there and caught her shoulders.

"I got a nurse." He stepped into the room and away from the door as two nurses rushed in.

Shortly after injecting something into his IV line, Jim relaxed and stared blankly at the ceiling. Sweat covered his face.

"What was that all about?" TJ asked. "He thought I was dead because I couldn't shoot?"

"He's a little confused," Harrelson said, shrugging. "Who knows."

"I didn't have a shot," TJ said. "I couldn't."

Harrelson rubbed his hand over his face. "I know that, TJ." He motioned to the zombie-like Street. "He does too, somewhere in that hard head of his."

"I didn't freeze," TJ said. "I didn't have a shot."

Harrelson stepped in front of TJ. "No one thinks you froze, TJ." Harrelson measured his tone carefully. "You said you didn't have a shot, then you didn't have a shot."


	5. Chapter 5

"Jim's home now," Susan said.

Looking up from his magazine, TJ said, "That's good."

"Dom's staying at Jim's place for a couple of days. The doctor didn't want Jim to be alone." Susan poured a glass of wine. TJ had a beer – his fourth.

"That's a good idea." TJ stood and walked out on the patio.

"You going to go see them?" Susan stood just behind TJ.

"It's late. Not tonight. Some other time."

"They don't blame you, TJ." Susan watched as TJ stilled.

"They don't have to."

With quiet tears in her eyes, Susan turned and went back inside.

###

Unable to sleep with his stomach growling, Jim slipped on a pair of jeans and crept into the living room, hoping not to disturb Dom on the couch. Having a roomie made midnight fridge raids more difficult, but it sure as hell beat staying in the hospital.

The dark and his limited eyesight made Jim hesitate, disoriented in his own apartment. Starting again, he walked into a chair that had been moved to accommodate Dom. He muffled a curse, bent down and felt his way around the chair. Straightening, he walked into clothes Dom had hanging from the ceiling light fixture. The fabric brushing against his face freaked out Jim. He swung out, spun around. Dizzy and confused, he fell to the floor, still fighting the clothing.

Dom turned on the lamp by the couch. "Jim?"

"Damn," Jim mumbled, tossing the clothes aside and sitting up. He rubbed his left temple as the familiar throb began.

"You got pills somewhere?" Dom asked, tossing his clothes on the coffee table, noticing how pale Jim looked.

"I don't want pills." Jim crawled over to the chair and eased into it, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. Below the string of stitches, his swollen left eye sported the multi-colored hues of healing.

"Then don't scare me like that." Dom's voice slapped out with frustration.

Jim's right eye popped open. "Sorry."

"Shit." Dom ran his hand through his hair. "You okay now?"

"I'm fine." Jim closed his eye again. "Not up to dancing with your clothes yet, I guess. Makes it throb." He rubbed his temple more. "You?"

Dom grunted and paced into the kitchen. "Want a beer?"

"Yeah."

###

"I'm coming, geez." Dom tripped over the chair that seemed to roam around the room at will. He cursed lightly, stumbling to the phone.

"Street's apartment," Dom said into the receiver. He blinked, glaring at the clock in the kitchen. Twenty after one. He'd been asleep for a whole hour.

"Dom?"

"Susan?" Worry etched Dom's forehead. "What's wrong?"

"It's TJ. Can you and Jim come talk to him? He's been drinking. Again." Susan stopped to catch her breath. "He's talking crazy. Please."

Dom rubbed the back of his neck, not liking the desperation in Susan's voice. "We'll be right there."

"Thank you, Dom. Please hurry."

"We will. Be calm, Susan. Just be calm."

"I'm trying."

Dom hung up the phone and winced, hearing a thud in the living room followed by sharp cursing. He turned on the kitchen light. "Shit."

"I'm all right." Jim shoved the spare chair across the room and stood up. "Who's on the phone?"

"Uh, that was Susan." Dom pulled on his slightly rumpled clothes from the coffee table. "She's worried about TJ and wants us to go over and talk to him."

Jim blinked, trying to concentrate on the clock. "Now?"

"You can go back to sleep. I'll go." Dom sat to put on his shoes.

"No. No, I'll go, too." Jim jogged back to his bedroom. "What all did she say?" he called out.

"TJ's drinking and talking crazy, according to her."

Jim emerged, looking for his keys. Dom jangled his car keys. "Let's go."

###

Jim rapped lightly on the door, and waited. And waited. Just as he was about to knock again, the door opened a crack.

"Just a minute," Susan whispered. The sounds of a chain lock rattled and the door opened wider.

Susan's eyes misted. "I really hate calling you guys out here so late. I didn't know who else to call. I don't want to get TJ into trouble."

"It's okay, Susan," Dom said. He smiled reassuringly. "Where is he?"

"On the patio." She stepped back and they went straight through to the back patio.

"What're you doing here?" TJ said.

"We were in the neighborhood," Jim said. He sat at the plastic outdoor table.

"Sure you were." TJ slurred the 's'. "You, too?" He looked back and saw Dom, nearly toppling his chair.

"Yeah, me, too." Dom sat across from TJ.

"Hey, Susan," Jim called. "Bring Dom and me a beer."

"Those are mine," TJ said when Susan set the open bottles in front of Dom and Jim.

Jim chugged his beer, belched loudly, and asked for another.

"Now wait a minute." TJ tried to stand, but decided to remain seated.

Dom gave Jim a questioning look. Jim gave a quick nod in TJ's direction – silently cueing Dom to follow his lead.

"Not in a sharing mood, TJ, ol' buddy?" Jim asked.

"You guys should go home." TJ stated.

"What, so you can drink all the beer?" Jim slammed his bottle on the table. "Maybe we want to join your party."

"Yeah," Dom said, guzzling his beer.

"What party?" TJ asked, confused.

"Looks like you're having one hell of a pity party to me."

"Yeah," Dom said, agreeably.

"Out!" TJ yelled.

"No." Dom and Jim said in unison.

"It ain't a pity party," TJ said, calmer.

Jim looked at Dom. Both looked at TJ.

"Damn it," TJ said. He managed to stand.

"You were over there." TJ pointed to Jim. "Did you kill any kids?"

Jim remained silent.

"Well, did ya?" TJ dropped into his seat. "See, you'd never understand."

"I don't have to answer that," Jim said. His voice was low. "But, for you, I will. Yes, I was forced to shoot, to kill, kids … women, too. Anyone that attacked us – with guns or baskets full of grenades. I also shot the cowards hiding behind women and children, hopefully saving them from a hell I can't even imagine." Jim stood, paced the patio, returned and kicked his chair. "Yeah, I killed kids."

"It's not right," TJ said.

Jim stared into the night.

"No, it's not," Dom said. "That's why we're SWAT. It's getting crazier out there. I didn't kill kids, but I saw plenty of them dying from drugs when I was with Narco. Some not even teens yet."

Jim picked up his chair and the trio sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I let you guys down." TJ rested his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them.

"When?" Jim asked.

"What are you talking about?" asked Dom.

TJ sat up and slouched down in his chair. He glanced at Dom's arm; the bandaging around Dom's hand was visible. He glanced at Jim's face; at the stitches and bruising. "At that house. When you got hurt." He pounded his fist on the table. "I didn't freeze, I swear it. I just didn't have a shot."

Dom looked at Jim. Both looked at TJ.

"We didn't think you froze," Dom said. "That's crazy thinking."

Jim elbowed Dom.

"After the kid shooting … and seeing the shrink … then not shooting and you two getting hurt." TJ rubbed his eyes. "I think I may be crazy."

"You're not crazy." Jim shot Dom a cold glance and fingered his stitches. "That dude had a .22 rifle and I didn't duck quick enough. If you had started blasting away with that .308 without pinpointing the way you do – any of us could have big holes in us."

"Yeah," Dom said. "I had my hands full with that toothy dog. I didn't want to have to dodge your cannon, too."

"I felt helpless." TJ glanced between his two teammates.

"That's how I felt when the dog latched onto Dom's arm," Jim said.

"Exactly how I felt when Jim was lying there with his head bleeding and I was stuck with the damn dog," added Dom.

The three men burst into laughter simultaneously.

"Man," TJ said. "I have to see the shrink again in the morning."

"Is she hot?" asked Dom.

Jim elbowed Dom, again.

###

At two-thirty, Susan peeked out at the patio. The three guys were still at the little table. They were laughing – even TJ. They talked, laughed, toasted one another. She sighed with relief.


	6. Chapter 6

Hondo Harrelson left late for work and detoured to a quiet street that wasn't so quiet a few days ago. He stopped at the curb and walked up to a neat home and pressed the doorbell.

"Hello, ma'am," he said to the woman that opened the door.

"Is there more trouble, Officer?"

"No, ma'am. I had an officer on your roof the other day – when all the trouble was going on next door. I'd like to check for any brass, empty shell casings, we may have left."

"Oh. Of course, Officer. There's a ladder out back by the shed."

"Thank you, ma'am. I won't be long and I'll be sure to put the ladder back."

"Okay. Be careful up there."

"Yes, ma'am."

Harrelson settled in on the roof in the best approximation of where he remembered TJ had set up. Prone, he removed his hat, glanced back over his shoulder, checked his watch, and waited. Slowly, the sun inched higher behind him. When the minute hand reached about the time that the shooting began next door, he stared at the neighboring front window – as TJ was doing that day.

On cue, the sun rose over the rooftops and splashed against the window, turning it opaque. The glare was blinding. Harrelson didn't want to think how bright it would appear through TJ's scope. He's lucky TJ didn't receive permanent eye damage.

###

TJ skipped down the stairs into the Control Center. It was quiet. He knew Deke was subbing at Sunset for a couple days. Of course, Dom and Jim were out for a few more days. He stopped by his desk, drawn by a new item sitting in the middle of it – a pair of dark sunglasses. He turned, staring at Harrelson in his office.

"You know?" TJ asked, walking into the office.

"Yeah." Harrelson motioned for TJ to sit. "I also know how feeble an excuse it makes."

TJ shook his head. "After everything else, I couldn't say the sun was in my eyes. That just sounds so lame, like covering for a freeze."

"We know you better than that, McCabe." Harrelson leaned forward on his desk. "Enough to see that it was eating you up and do a little investigating."

"I took responsibility for it." TJ shrugged. "The shrink released me." He dropped the papers on the desk.

"You good with the other two?" Harrelson asked.

"Yes, sir. We went over … things … last night."

"No further injuries to report?"

TJ laughed. "No, sir. Unless you count slight hangovers."

Harrelson relaxed. "No, under the circumstances, that's not unexpected."

###

Harrelson quickened his pace down the stairs at the crescendo of voices. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, smiling as Deke attempted to referee the rest of Olympic SWAT 1 at the coffee pot.

"Gentlemen!" Harrelson said, sharply and loudly. The instantaneous quiet was gratifying. He walked to the coffee pot, poured his cup, and settled at his desk. "Carry on!"

His smile returned as the bickering continued. He picked up the return to duty forms for Luca and Street from his desk and sipped his coffee.

"Street, Luca," Harrelson called. The men appeared at his door.

"Sir," Dom said.

"Lieutenant," Jim said.

"Welcome back," Harrelson said, toasting them with his coffee mug.

"Yes, sir!" they answered in unison.


End file.
